Infatuation
by Luxanna D
Summary: "Tons of people bursting out of a room yelling surprise. Led by none other than my perfect little sister, Anna. I told you I hate surprises." Elsa's journal entries about her addiction. [Lots of Sexual Themes] Modern AU.
1. Introductions

This probably isn't something you want to read, honestly. It's not a happy story, but I guess it's also not a sad one.

This is pretty much just me talking about my life. It's gonna be brutally honest, because, well- that's what this journal is for.

I guess I can do introductions. It'll at least take up space.

I'm Elsa.

I'm twenty-two years old, and I'm a sex addict.

This is the point where everyone chimes in at the same time and says "Hi, Elsa."

Okay. Now that's out of the way.

I went to my first group meeting today. It was cold outside, and the meeting was held in the cafeteria of some random building downtown.

I was reluctant to enter because it was uncharted territory, and I guess I can be scared shitless of new things sometimes… blame it on my childhood, at least that's what my therapist does.

This girl walked up to me. Short, brunette, sweet eyes. She handed me this black fabric. It was warm and slightly damp. Her panties. "Hold that for me. I don't have any pockets." Her voice was as sweet as her eyes.

She then gave me a once over as I stood there awkwardly staring at her. "I know a place we can go if you wanna have some fun," she said.

I smiled politely, and said "No, thank you." Then I shoved her underwear in my pocket as we walked through the doors.

I later learned that her named was Belle. She was in a bad relationship, and she left it with a bad habit.

But I'm pretty sure it was there before she entered the relationship. Probably why she stayed.

The meeting was okay. Honestly, it's more of a 'how to' on getting laid, hearing these insane stories. I gotta say, there were a few times where I thought to myself, _Gotta try that one. _Does that make me messed up?

They tell us that it's not our fault.

You see, us sex addicts are addicted to the endorphins released during sex that kill pain and tranquilize you. We naturally have lower levels of peptide phenylethylamine. You get the picture.

It was my turn to tell a story.

I told them the one that I'll never forget. I told them about my twenty-first birthday.

I hate surprises.

My sister Anna loves them. You see how this can become troublesome?

So, on my twenty-first birthday I made it home from classes and there was no one there. The house was silent.

This was good for me… I mean normal people might be pissed because it could seem like maybe their family forgot them, but no- not me.

I loved having the house to myself.

I stood in the entryway listening for any noises. When I heard none, I dropped my backpack and beelined for the kitchen.

This was gonna be fun, or so I thought.

I needed the perfect instrument. You see, I can't buy any fancy toys online, because my accounts are monitored by my over-bearing parents.

I guess I could move out of their house, but that's a different story.

I could do this black market style and pay cash on the street, but… never mind. I beelined for the kitchen.

I opened the refrigerator, and it must have been my special day (I mean I guess it actually was) because sitting there was the world's most perfect carrot… at least for what I needed to do.

I got it, and immediately headed for the living room.

That was mistake number one, but I wasn't caring about anything or anyone at that point.

I did a quick once over of the room, listening intently for any noises- just to make sure, before dropping my pants.

I laid back on the sofa and I got to work. I mean I really got to work. The carrot was cold, but it was good- connecting with my warm flesh.

Just right, you know?

I had this slow in and out rhythm going, because I figured I was alone for a while, and didn't need to take it too fast. I sat there like that for a couple of minutes, legs splayed on the couch, head thrown back in ecstasy.

I was building up to that perfect moment, when it happened.

Tons of people bursting out of a room yelling surprise. Led by none other than my perfect little sister, Anna.

I told you I hate surprises.

Friends, family, and friends of the family all staring at me, wide eyed and horrified.

I slung the carrot to the floor, grabbed my pants and high-tailed out of there.

I was gone a day before Anna found me. She convinced me to go back home. Said everything would be the same.

Nothing was the same. After a year of awkwardness and torture, I decided to do something about my "problem".

I hope this gets people off my back.


	2. Sunset

Mama has started doing this thing where she randomly shows up in my room, just to check on me.

I'm no longer allowed to lock my door.

It makes me feel bad. It makes me feel violated. It's torture and I hate that she does it.

But I'd never tell her that.

She's the type that thinks she has her family under control. She needs that. But I know Papa started drinking again.

I don't tell her that either.

I tell her that I'm tired because I went running this morning. I tell her it takes all my energy, so by the end of the day the only thing I can do is go to sleep.

It's true that I put on my running shoes and my running pants and I left the house and ran down the street.

But that's where it ended.

As soon as I turned the corner I stopped running. Then I walked to the park and sat on a bench for a while.

I thought about life. I thought about what happened. I thought about getting off. I thought about finding some place to sneak off to. I didn't do it, but I thought about it. I felt good about fighting the urges.

That didn't last long, though. I went to the grocery store when I was supposed to be in class. Bought some quality vegetables.

Mama stopped buying the big carrots. She only gets the small ones now.

There's no such thing as a baby carrot, though. They're all just chopped up big carrots at an inflated price. I tried to tell her that, but she gave me this look.

It was full of hurt and disapproval, so I gave up the cause.

After her final check in for the day, I waited till she left the room. I waited a good enough time for her to fall asleep.

The carrot wasn't cold this time, but it still got the job done. I dimmed the lights and shut the door, my ears alert for footsteps. I put the cover over me.

If all else fails, I can pretend I was asleep.

I don't have to use food for this, I mean there are other things… but there's something about food that I like. It is or once was alive or something like that. It's closer to being human than a hairbrush or like the gear shift in a car.

There's this lady in group who did that. With the gear shift. She nearly died. That wasn't one of the things I needed to try.

I moved the carrot in slow strokes because it's better that way. Also if someone walked in I wouldn't be caught in a full swing, fast action… you get the picture.

After I was finished, after the good feeling was gone- there was this feeling of regret.

Back when I wasn't being monitored, when Mama didn't know about her messed up baby, sometimes I could get up to like eight times a day. I never felt any regret about that. I never felt guilty. I was just happy. I thought doing things that made me happy could only be good.

That's until I was told otherwise.

Second day of group wasn't any better than the first. Same old shit.

Belle said she had drinks and leftover pizza in her apartment... If I wanted to come over.

I thought about it.

I really did think about it. I could tell Mama that I was working on a project with a friend. I could tell her my friend was helping me learn. I'd be learning new things. All of this would be true.

But, of course, all of it would also be a lie.

So I told Belle no again.

We talked about the step system in group. And we talked about admitting we were powerless.

I stopped paying attention after a while.

Anna helped make dinner because she said she wanted to make my favorite. I pretended to be excited, because she was excited.

Really, all I could think about was how the people in group -the people with the crazy, weird, fantastic sex stories- were the same people that made your coffee or helped you do your taxes.

It's ironic really.

I wonder what it's like to be Anna. She's happy, or at least it seems that way.

I don't know if I would write myself off as being sad, but I know I'm not necessarily happy. I'm not like Anna.

I'm sort of indifferent nowadays. I'm all about that new fad of not feeling, what is it? Not having a fuck to give.

Yeah.

That's me all the way. Except it's not really me, it's just what I like to tell myself during the thousandth time of the day that I'm repeating my conceal, don't feel mantra.

It's sort of maintenance rehearsal, because the moment I stop reminding myself is the moment I forget.

I forget to not feel and then I realize how bad I have it. That unwanted embarrassed feeling from when the family walked in will come back.

And then I'll lie awake at night, staring at the wall or the ceiling, unable to sleep, with this big, heavy weight on my chest. Unable to breathe.

I'll go over everything I did wrong and what I should have done differently.

Finally I'll get out of bed at two in the morning and I end up here, spilling my heart out to this journal.

That's another reason you probably don't want to read this. It's just me rambling at 2am because I couldn't fall asleep because I couldn't actually not feel because I'm human.

And I'll never be more than that.

I guess, on the bright side, I'll also never be any less than that. Whatever addiction or problem that I may have doesn't make me any less human, in fact it could be argued that it makes me more.

That's usually the point I get to in my head that allows me to finally close my eyes, and get some rest.

That didn't happen tonight.

Instead my mind filled with other things. Like the things that people do, but they don't tell anyone about it.

I'm pretty sure everyone has a story of trying something crazy that they've never mentioned to anyone before.

Somewhere out there, there are people with crap like two girls, one cup saved on their hard drives. And late at night when their roommate is asleep and the only light on is the one from the closet they shove their headphones in and turn on the video. Lower halves under the covers, making as little movement as possible.

It's because we're human. There's that one twisted idea (twisted by society's standards) that we get introduced to and our mind just latches on to it.

It gets to the point where we find ourselves getting out of bed late at night to scourge the dark corners of reddit on the family computer before doing an extensive Google search for how to completely erase any trace of past searches.

The people who do that are the same ones to point a finger at, and laugh at the individuals who aren't afraid to voice that they like something to the world- the same something that that person secretly searches for at night.

Why do we do that? Why do we put someone down for being open about something that we are too afraid to admit?

Because we're human and we're messed up and we don't like to admit it.

So why am I the one being forced to face my problems when no one else has to?

Next time Mama pops into the room to 'check in' I'm gonna tell her how it makes me feel. I'm gonna tell her I know Papa is drinking. I'll tell her that I still do what she's trying to prevent.

Then I'm gonna watch closely for the look on her face. The look she has when she finally has to confront reality.

Then I'll finally feel at home because for one moment, one brief second before she throws her walls up- she will know what it feels like to be me. We'll connect in that moment and maybe she won't realize it, but I will.

That's really all I need. She will pretend like it didn't affect her, but surely she will check in a little less. She'll buy real carrots. Deep down she will realize what it feels like to be me. And that's not such a great feeling.

She will be more accommodating. But, of course, I'm never going to do that.

Tomorrow morning when she shoves her head in here to check in on me I'll already be up, pulling on my sneakers and giving her a fake smile- telling her I'm gonna go running.

I don't know how long this routine will last, but for now it's working. It's letting everyone pretend that nothing is wrong with this little family.

It's letting everyone think that the fact that our cousins have rarely contacted us since the incident is just a little coincidence.

Maybe they're all just busy. Maybe I'm actually going for a run. Maybe Papa isn't drinking. Maybe this doesn't have an effect on Anna.

She's the only one of us that's still salvageable. She graduates from high school this year.

I want her to go far away.

I actually don't. It's selfish, I know- but I want her to stay with me. She needs to leave, though. Even if she's the only light in my life. She can thrive in any environment, I just know it.

I once saw this beautiful sunset. It was on YouTube. The guy in the video missed it. He had his back to it the whole time, talking about how high he was.

He missed that beautiful sunset and no matter how many times he watches that video, he will never really experience it.

I'm not sure why I just thought of that. I should probably get some sleep.


	3. Tooth Fairy

Belle told me that she did other things compulsively- not just having sex. She said everyone needs a hobby.

I asked her what her hobby was, and she told me she liked to meeting hop.

I asked, "What does that mean?" in all of my naiveté because this is a new world and a new scene and I know squat shit about the people in it and what they do for fun. She asked me if I wanted to come along.

I didn't say no this time.

We went to a cancer meeting. There was bad coffee, donuts, and tons of crying people. Belle said she just found out she had cancer. She cried and everyone hugged her. When we left she gave me a list of everything that happened, by night and time. She asked if I want to tag along tomorrow.

I told her yes.

We went to this little convenient store and got frozen burritos and a couple of cokes. She finally convinced me that maybe I should go see her apartment.

It was small, but kind of cozy. She had amateur art hanging on the walls and pictures of smiling faces everywhere. Some were of her, some weren't.

I saw this picture on this bookshelf that looked particularly happy. Belle was smiling next to this behemoth of a man.

"My old boyfriend," she said, coming up behind me. She snaked a hand around my waist, undoing the buckle on my belt.

I took a sip of my coke. "Where is he now?" I asked, quietly.

She shrugged as she tugged the belt loose and undid the button on my jeans. "Off doing his own thing, I suppose."

I took another sip of my coke.

Her hand plunged beneath the elastic of my underwear. They're white with little snowflakes on them. The kind you get at Target that come in the little five-pack.

For a moment I feel a little embarrassed, but Belle doesn't seem to care, so neither do I.

She kisses my shoulder. "Why did it take you so long to say yes to me?" Her fingers roam over my flesh, exploring.

I try to take another sip of my coke, but the can is empty. I place it on the bookshelf instead. "I guess I've been trying to get better."

Belle lets out a small laugh as she moves her other hand under my shirt, slipping beneath my bra.

I reach behind me, pull out a folded piece of paper from my back pocket. "They say I need a sponsor. I was wondering if you would do it?"

She told me yes.

After we had sex, we didn't talk much. Both of us were ashamed and didn't want to look at each other. Society did this to us. We just want to feel normal.

I got home late and Mama asked why. I didn't really have a good excuse so I told her I needed to take a walk. I said I needed to clear my head. I told her that things were getting too stuffy in the house.

I said I wished that I had enough money to move out.

She was silent for a really long time. I know she knows what I was really doing, but when she opened her mouth, the only thing that came out was, "You need to check in with me, Elsa. You're under this roof, so you follow my rules."

I don't really like her rules, though. She not only banned locking my door, but now it's against the rules to shut it during the day, or while I'm sleeping.

Honestly, what am I going to do in my sleep? And if I do manage to do something, is she really going to hold me accountable?

I never asked her that, though. I just said okay. I always say okay. I don't like conflict. I don't like to fight. I just want to sit around and go unnoticed.

But everyone seems to always notice me.

Anna said that snow should be coming soon. She said we should build a snowman with the first snow.

I'm twenty-two years old. I don't want to build a snowman. I told her that sounded nice. I said I'd love to do it. I'd love to spend time with her.

The last part wasn't a lie. I really do want to spend more time with her, but we just…. don't connect. We don't have much in common.

We used to be really close, and then at some point we weren't. It's probably because of my problem.

I pushed a lot of people away. I wanted to be alone, for reasons. Obviously.

Anna is so nice and understanding and I'm the dick of a sister who blows her off for vegetables. I'll build that snowman with her, and I'll have fun doing it.

I remember when she lost her first tooth. She kept asking if the tooth fairy was coming.

I told her yes, but Mama and Papa said they weren't going to go along with those lies.

I tried to take the tooth and sneak my allowance under her pillow, but she woke up right in the middle. She asked me why I was stealing her tooth.

I told her I didn't want her to know that the tooth fairy wasn't real. I didn't know what else to say. She gave me a hug. Told me I was the best big sister.

That was a nice feeling.


End file.
